Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
What a difference a day makes, Heather thought, as she sat down at the long, stripped pine table in her mother’s kitchen. When she’d been met with the smell of Catriona’s beef stew with dumplings, she’d almost cried. She was so grateful that things felt like they were back on track.
Matty loved her. She loved him. And that was what mattered. They’d spent a lovely couple of hours at the Christmas party, giggling at Elizabeth’s antics; Heather was sure that they would win her over together. Then, when everyone had gone home, they’d helped Angus and Catriona clear up.
While they’d been collecting glasses and plates, and helping Angus get the deer back to their owner, Matty had told her more about his childhood.
She’d listened, letting him talk about boarding school, about being distant with his brothers, about his parents.
Slowly, Heather felt she was starting to understand Matty on a different level.
She realised one thing: that she thought she’d known him, but that there was much more she still had to learn.
That was all right, though. Heather could feel, instinctively, that Matty was a good person.
She knew he was kind, that he adored her, that he was safe, in the same way that her parents and sisters were safe.
And even though Elizabeth was still being difficult, she felt as though she could deal with it.
At least she understood some of what was going on with her new mother-in-law: Matty was her favourite, she adored him, but they’d had a distance in their relationship when he went to boarding school.
Perhaps Elizabeth felt that she’d never been able to repair that rift.
Perhaps she felt guilty. Whatever it was, it would go some way to explaining why she was being so difficult about the wedding.
Heather hoped that Elizabeth wasn’t one of those mothers that thought no one would ever be good enough for her boy; that would be pretty difficult to cope with.
But even if she was, as long as she and Matty were aligned, Heather felt as though she could cope with anything.
To celebrate all the Balhennie sisters being home, all six of them had gathered for dinner at the Balhennie Inn with Angus and Catriona after the Christmas party: after an afternoon hosting what felt like the whole island, now it was just time for family.
Primrose had gone to get Aunt Joan and Aunt Chrissie from the castle to join them, and now they sat at the two ends of the long kitchen table like queens.
Matty sat next to Heather, and Blossom’s partner Tom sat next to Aunt Joan.
Sorrel and her partner Tam sat next to each other.
The younger of Blossom’s children, Archie, sat in a wooden high chair next to Catriona, and Alexander, the four-year-old, sat next to Angus.
‘I’d like tae say a few words, just before we dig in.
’ Angus stood up and dinged a fork on the side of a wine glass.
‘First of all, a big welcome tae the family – official, like – tae Matty. Stand up, lad.’ Angus beckoned to him, and Matty stood up, self-consciously.
‘Ah, no need tae be shy. I just wanted tae say a proper welcome an’ congratulations for the big day ahead,’ Angus continued.
‘Thank you, Mr Balhennie,’ Matty replied politely.
‘Angus. I’ve told you,’ Angus corrected him, smiling paternally.
‘Angus. Thank you.’ Matty raised his glass to the table.
‘Thank you to all of you for being so lovely, especially bearing in mind that my family are… not the easiest. I appreciate your patience and kindness, really I do.’ He looked around the table.
‘And it’s so great to finally meet all of Heather’s sisters.
I can’t wait to get to know all of you.’
‘Just making sure there’s nothing else you wanted to tell us?’ Violet called out; Heather made a face at her twin. ‘What? Just saying.’
‘No, there’s nothing else.’ Matty smiled, stoically. ‘And that’s completely fair.’
‘Hm. Well, marriage isnae easy, lad. You might know that, an’ you might not.
You’ve got tae talk tae each other. Be there in times o’ trouble.
Love each other even when the bairns are up all night, even when loved ones die, when there’s no’ much food in the cupboard,’ Angus said, looking mistily at Catriona.
‘The good lord knows that we’ve had our ups an’ downs, haven’t we, hen? ’
Catriona nodded, and reached for her husband’s hand.
‘That we have,’ she said. ‘But we got through all of it.’
‘Aye. An’ I couldnae be prouder o’ all the Balhennies.
All my girls.’ Angus wiped a tear from his eye.
‘Matt, I wish you an’ Heather all the love an’ luck in the world.
She’s the kindest, sweetest girl I think I’ve ever had the pleasure o’ knowin’.
An’ I want tae let you know that if you ever hurt her, you’re in for a world o’ sufferin’.
The Princesses o’ Balhennie are not to be messed with.
’ Angus levelled his soon-to-be son-in-law with a serious stare.
‘It’s no’ even me you have tae worry aboot. ’
‘Oh, Dad. Don’t.’ Heather blushed. ‘You’re embarrassing me.’
‘I am not. It’s just what a father should say,’ Angus remonstrated gently. ‘Still, I’ll say no more. Let’s have a toast, an’ then we can get on wi’ dinner before it gets cold, aye.’
‘To the newlyweds!’ Bluebell called out.
‘To the young lovers!’ Aunt Chrissie added.
‘To youth, hope and the future!’ Tam held up his glass.
‘Slàinte Mhath.’ Everyone raised their glasses and clinked them with their neighbour’s, using the traditional Gaelic toast.
‘So, Aunt Chrissie…’ Primrose turned to her great-aunt as everyone began to eat and chatter. ‘How are you feeling about the newspaper article now?’
‘Oh, my. Yes. It’s been rather difficult.
’ Aunt Chrissie put down her fork and sighed.
‘But I’m soldiering on. Joan keeps telling me that today’s news is tomorrow’s chip paper, and I’m trying to see it that way, even though it was all rather…
exposing. It’s meant the world to have you girls around to support me, too.
’ Aunt Chrissie beamed at Primrose and the rest of the Balhennie sisters.
‘Auntie, we have to ask,’ Violet interjected. ‘How did you become a Page Three Girl? We’re dying to know.’
‘Oh, dear. Really?’ Chrissie let out a long sigh. ‘Surely there’s more in life than your antique auntie posing for photographs in newspapers.’
‘Yes! Of course we want to know,’ Blossom chuckled. ‘We’ve all been very polite and held back because we knew you were upset about it – which we understand, by the way. But I know I’d love to hear the story.’
‘So would I.’ Primrose held up her hand. Everyone around the table followed suit, apart from Aunt Joan.
‘I already know.’ She shrugged.
‘Respectfully, of course,’ Heather added. ‘If you want to tell us, we’d love to hear your story, Auntie.’
‘Well… I suppose I can tell you, as you’re family.’ Chrissie smiled, shyly.
‘You’ve got my album somewhere, haven’t you, dear? Can I have it?’ She looked at Catriona.
‘Um, yes… let me see. Wait a minute.’ Catriona got up and went to the large wooden dresser on the opposite side of the kitchen. She opened one of the cupboards at the bottom, reached in and drew out a photo album.
‘This one?’ Catriona held up a wine-coloured old-fashioned photo album with cellophane-covered pages inside. The spine was faded; at some point in its life it had clearly sat on a shelf in the sunshine.
‘That’s the one, dear. Bring it over.’ Chrissie rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan. ‘There it is. Goodness, I haven’t looked at this for a long time.’
Catriona handed her aunt the album.
‘Now. What I’m about to show you is a little shocking. Or, at least, it was, once upon a time. Perhaps it isn’t now.’
Chrissie opened the album and flicked through a few pages. Then, she stopped on a series of headshots. A young Chrissie stared up from the pages; wide-eyed, clear-skinned, with a pouty mouth and a mass of auburn hair.
‘Oh, Auntie. You look so beautiful.’ Heather had gone to stand behind her great-aunt and was looking over her shoulder. She touched the page. ‘You’re beautiful now, of course. But you’re so young!’
‘Ha. You don’t need to sugarcoat it, dearie.
I’m old now. But I was young and lovely once, just like you.
’ Chrissie smiled affectionately at her great-niece.
‘I was younger than you, there. Twenty or so. It was 1970 when I started modelling. That was actually quite late. A lot of the girls started in their teens.’
‘I had no idea,’ Bluebell commented, as Chrissie turned the pages of the album. ‘Look at all of these pictures! You look so good!’
‘Ha. Oh, I thought I was the bee’s knees, let me tell you,’ Chrissie chuckled, looking over at her youngest great-niece.
‘But I was a rebel. My father forbade me from modelling, but I’d been discovered, you see.
Joan and I were shopping in Glasgow one day and a man came up to us.
He gave me his card and he said he was a model scout, and that with my looks I could have a successful career.
I didn’t know anything about anything then.
I was cock-a-hoop to be chosen, and he made it sound so exciting.
A life of fur coats and Berni Inns, Cinzano and being squired around by racing car drivers. ’
‘Is that what happened?’ Blossom asked.
‘In a way, darling. I suppose nowadays you might expect me to tell you how terrible it was, that I was abused and disrespected and all my money was stolen by some kind of immoral talent manager. But the truth of it is, I had a wonderful time.’ Chrissie looked misty-eyed, as she danced among her memories.
‘I moved away to London quite soon after I signed my contract. I was just twenty when I started. It was wonderful down there. My manager Alf put me up in a flat with three other girls in Warwick Avenue, which was a very chichi part of town then. We had a driver and we got paid well. I spent so much money on clothes. Biba, Selfridges, the King’s Road.
We had boys coming out of our ears, so to speak. ’ She giggled.
‘Did they take you to… what was it you said? Berni Inns?’ Bluebell frowned. ‘I don’t know what that is.’
‘It was a sort of restaurant chain, years ago,’ Catriona explained. ‘I think we thought it was posh at the time.’
‘Haha. Oh, yes. We had a lot of steak dinners and sparkling wine. We got taken to all sorts of lovely discotheques and clubs, and wonderful restaurants. I still think of the dessert trolley at Annabel’s and drool,’ Aunt Chrissie added. ‘Now, that place really was posh. I think it’s still there.’
‘Well, that’s brilliant!’ Heather exclaimed. ‘I don’t know why you don’t talk about it more, Auntie. If I were you, I’d be so proud!’
‘Oh. I am.’ Chrissie nodded. ‘I was an independent young woman and I was loving life. But then Alf suggested that I start doing some topless work. That was where the real money was, you see.’ She took in a deep breath and let it out.
‘Now. To be clear, I still don’t think what I did was wrong.
The photographers I worked with were very polite and professional, and I never felt that I was being taken advantage of.
I enjoyed that work as much as I did anything else, and I had a talent for it. And it paid very well.’
‘Okay. So…?’ Violet asked. ‘No harm in that.’
‘Well, you might not think so now, my dear.’ Chrissie sighed.
‘But when my father got wind of what I was doing, he lost what was left of his temper. He rang me up on the phone and ranted at me all about how I was sullying the family name, how he would disown me if I didn’t stop posing topless, that I was a disappointment, a slut.
’ Chrissie whispered the last word, her cheeks flushed.
‘I was so shocked to hear that word come out of his mouth. He wasn’t a bad man at all, and he’d always been a loving father.
But he was so very upset by what I’d done, and I couldn’t bear it. So, I went home.’
‘You stopped modelling?’ Violet asked again.
‘Yes.’ Chrissie paused. ‘Of course, Alf tried to get me to come back. There was a contract in the offing for a lingerie brand, and they wanted me as the face of it. But I said no.’ She looked so deeply sad that Heather let out a little cry and enveloped her elderly aunt in her arms.
‘Oh, no! Auntie!’
The idea that Aunt Chrissie had given up on her dreams was awful to Heather.
‘It’s all right, dear. All a very long time ago.
’ Chrissie sighed. ‘Sometimes I still think about what my life would have been if I’d followed that path.
But I don’t know that I would ever have got over losing my relationship with our father.
I rebuilt his trust in me, over the years.
And I’m glad that I was able to be home when he died, a few years later. He was terribly young. Heart attack.’
Heather gazed at her great-aunt in consternation; Chrissie’s face crumpled. ‘I’ll always wonder if…’ She shook her head.
‘What?’ Heather asked, gently. Her heart was breaking for her great-aunt, because she understood the emotional turmoil of being faced with such a difficult choice.
‘If what I did… if it contributed to his heart attack, in some way,’ Chrissie whispered. ‘I’ve always felt responsible.’
‘No, Auntie! Never think that!’ Heather cried. That her great-aunt had given up on her dream was bad enough, but the idea that she had been haunted by the fear that her modelling had in some way caused her father’s death was terrible.
‘Dear. We’ve spoken about this. It wasn’t your fault. Father had a bad heart, and he smoked like a chimney.’ Aunt Joan patted her sister’s hand. ‘Please don’t upset yourself.’
‘Auntie, listen to me. You were in no way responsible for that,’ Primrose agreed firmly. ‘He must have had heart disease to have an attack so young. He’d probably had heart problems for a long time. Like Aunt Joan said.’
‘I don’t know, dear. I mean, he probably did, but hearts are funny things. I still wonder if it was me that did it.’ Chrissie looked sad. ‘Anyway, I’ll meet him again one day soon.’
‘Not for a long time, I hope,’ Primrose replied. ‘We all hope you’ll be with us for a very long time to come, Auntie.’
Aunt Joan cleared her throat.
‘And you, Auntie.’ Bluebell added. ‘Neither of you are going anywhere for a long time. You’re indestructible!’
‘Cheers to that!’ Matty clinked his glass with Heather’s. ‘I wish I had an aunt as cool as you, Chrissie. Good for you for pursuing your dreams. Dreams are important.’
‘Aww. Matty!’ Heather glowed, looking into his eyes.
‘I mean it, baby.’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘And I love your family. They’re awesome, and I’m so glad to be a part of the Balhennie clan.’